


Thus Was Born the Mad King

by TalentedLoser



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen, Minecraft, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, king AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2053287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalentedLoser/pseuds/TalentedLoser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surrounded by the sea was a kingdom that became. It thrived, and it was prosperous, thanks to the five men who built it and worked tirelessly to keep it alive and well. But there are some villagers who swear there was a sixth man--a knight who worked for the king himself. Who was he, and what was his role? </p><p>This is the story of the rise, fall, and rise of the one in history known as the Mad King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Achievia

Surrounded by the sea appeared a kingdom. 

Kingdoms from the mainland first noticed the buildings being erected throughout the days and nights. Some kings kept their knights and dukes on watch, in case of attack. Other monarchs, both men and women, merely watched the towers that grew in the span of hours. How was it possible for such small manpower to create a giant statue? They wondered if they were for ritualistic purposes, or merely for show, but even they were unsure. It left their imagination running through the night. They wondered who was on this island, who took part in venturing to the mysterious land in the sea, and who wanted the land in the first place. But they could only watch as the work continued to be done on the island, from the monuments and then a castle on the highest hill be erected, to the numerous arenas in the sky built for amusement. 

Many knew not of the origins of this kingdom. Some monarchs believed it was merely built overnight when the sun had gone. Some rumored it was built by those who stumbled upon the land on accident. Others mentioned roamers building a makeshift village before heading east toward the Badlands, and another group who had been roaming merely claiming it as theirs. The true story? It rested with those on the island, those in charge of the kingdom that would become, and no villager who would become a part of the kingdom on the island had the courage to ask. Skepticism was enough. 

No matter the stories, and no matter the myths, the realm became. Of course, as all kingdoms start, it was a mere village at first. It was only populated by those who originated its existence. The number of those who started the kingdom varied on the mainland as well. Some stated there was five in the beginning, but others swore six. But over the first year of becoming, it thrived. And it was enough to encourage some to leave their kingdoms on the mainland and venture to the island. 

There were those on the mainland who had become afraid of their own kingdoms, of their kings and queens who had become ruthless in power. There were others who needed to escape from the kingdom that held them there, waiting to die either in a cell or outside amongst their peers. So each day, there were new arrivals. And those who were new asked the same question when they stepped foot on the island: 

“What, pray tell, shall my home be known as?”

The welcome was always the same, said by a man sitting on a rock, a smile across his face: 

“Welcome to Achievia.”

So the new villagers would let it be true: they hailed from the kingdom of Achievia, within the land of Mineriel. 

The first thing the villagers would notice of Achievia was the amount of trees it held. Of course, the monuments were also seen (a huge creeper, for instance, stood over the forest, as well as a sheep, for some reason), but the whole kingdom was surrounded by a vast forest. The men and women who founded Achievia told the villagers to use the rails to their advantage, and the villagers soon found out why. The entire island itself was large, and some wondered how the island had seemed so little on the mainland. A person could take a day trip into the forest and not reach the other side until three days later, it seemed. Then, once reaching the village, they would see the castle. It stood high into the clouds on the highest hill of the island. It was grand: windows adorned it; there were large canopies throughout the entire structure; towers stood on each side of the entrance, with a sturdy wooden door keeping its insides hidden. Villagers imagined the inside being nothing but spectacular. It was truly a castle fit for their future first king. 

Surrounding kingdoms had no clue how to view Achievia. Would there be war? This new kingdom was out to sea, and the only means of attack would be by boat. It would not be wise of them to attack, but it would not be surprising. After all, it was a new kingdom; perhaps they believed to be mighty and great. Would the men and women who ruled over this new realm take the chance for more land? But those leaders, those originators made one trip and one trip only to the mainland, and it was for mere trade. The villagers on the mainland were shocked at their transactions, merely asking for food, supplies, different ores, and more. After their business, the men shook hands with these tradesmen and smiled, and—just left. They climbed into their boat and made their way back to Achievia. The villagers on the main land could hear the men laughing miles out to sea, long into the night. What was their intention?

They received nothing more on the matter. 

They merely watched with caution each day that passed, and hoped their world would not burn.

Those on the mainland would not infer about the leaders of Achievia. They knew nothing of the men and women who built the kingdom in days, whose castle overlooked the sea. Leaders in the castle kept to their own island, and wished nothing but peace to the other kingdoms around. The new villagers who staked claim to portions of the land, however, quickly learned of the future leaders of the kingdom. And they kept this information to themselves as much as they possibly could. 

There was Geoff, the future first king of Achievia. There was no question he would be the king of Achievia; he was naturally born a leader. There were rumors of him already in line for the throne for another kingdom, but Geoff wanted no part with the kingdom, and instead made his own. Mere rumors, the villagers thought. He was the first to greet them off the boats when they first came. His relaxed posture and ever growing smile was warm and kind, and the villagers were quickly at ease. He was also the one to show them the way to the nearby village where they could let it grow. He gave tips on how to survive, and how to use their time well when first arriving. It was out of the ordinary for such a thing to occur in a kingdom, but he managed, and managed well. He had a boisterous laugh that carried for miles—even those on the opposite side of the island swore they could hear it echo to them. No one went against his orders; they trusted his judgment, and counted on his word that he knew what he was doing. Perhaps they were intimidated once they caught sight of the art stretching down his arms, or perhaps it was because of the dark bags that started to form under his eyes after waves of villagers had arrived. Maybe it was from the slowly but surely regal clothing that appeared on his body, instead of the comfortable clothing he always thought were best. But whatever it was, no one seemed to have a negative thing to say about Geoff; he would be a good leader, and all in the kingdom agreed. He even had a wife, Griffon, and while she was friendly with newcomers and those already living within Achievia, her preference was outside of the kingdom’s business. She rather liked building and carving the monuments the mainland could see peek above the forest line (and the villagers admired her work as well).

Then there was Jack, who carried wood to and from the kingdom each day. He was simply known as the architect to some, but he would later be known as the right-hand to the throne. If there was a new family settling down in their kingdom, or any villager who made their journey to Achievia, he was the first to help build their home. The inhabitants of Achievia continually asked him why he was helping them build, but he would just smile and tell them he enjoyed the work. And if he enjoyed it, then why stop? The villagers did not complain; he was good at the craft. Some of the houses villagers had were better than the ones they had in their old kingdoms, back on the mainland. And when he worked, villagers always noticed he wore a small scarf around his neck, with loose fitting clothing to speed the process of building the homes (he also said he did not want dust in his beard, which the villagers understood). He, too, was never bad-mouthed around the villages; everyone respected him, and appreciated the hard work he had done. He was tall, and intimidating at first (and even some envious of the beard he had grown), but the charming and kind smile drew all fears away, and even the small laughs were contagious. They, at first, wondered if he was being recognized by the king, but news quickly spread of him being the right-hand man to the king, and they respected the decision. They thought no one was better for the job than Jack. He, too, had a wife—her name was Caiti—but she stayed in town near the castle. Her business was not within the castle walls, and was rather content with being supportive of Jack. Besides, there were some who swore Jack never stayed in the castle itself. They swore he would always return home each night to be with her. It was respected.

The next was Gavin, one with a different accent than the rest, but the liveliest lad of the bunch. Some jested that he was known as the fool, and it was evident by the, well, foolish predicaments he’d be a part of almost daily. He was mostly seen at Geoff’s side, with either blueprints in his hand to discuss more monuments or buildings to be erected, or to cause nothing but trouble to the king (it was usually the latter). At first, the villagers thought of Gavin as a nuisance, who caused nothing but mayhem and wreckage—there were even reports of homes being damaged because of his recklessness. However, the villagers quickly learned to respect Gavin. Was it because of the menacing looks and talks they received from their king if they spoke ill of him? Perhaps, but there were stories among the villagers who genuinely enjoyed his company when he was around, and found him rather helpful when they needed something fixed, or even helped them when they needed something crafted like a weapon or item. There were times when villagers told of stories when they felt down about a circumstance, and Gavin was usually there to cheer them up. He was even spotted on patrol with the mighty warrior of the kingdom, wielding a simple bow and arrow. Whether he was helpful on patrol was up for debate, but whether he was skilled with the bow was not; every villager knew he was one of the best sharpshooters to have lived. He was very knowledgeable of the land and of different crafts, and that was something hard to come by anywhere people went. It was no surprise that he would become a knight for the king.

Michael was usually the next met by villagers. Some called him mighty, as the stories of killing beasts and monsters in the forest circled in the kingdom—especially when his outfit was adorned by an animal and beast pelt—but most dubbed him the warrior (Michael himself claimed to be Mogar, but only those closest to him could call him that). He was loud and rambunctious, but often kind. Villagers tended to ask quick questions, so as not to bother him or disturb him. They wondered why the kingdom had not been attacked by random creatures during the day, but it was soon learned that the warrior kept a sharp eye on the perimeters. There were times when Michael returned with items from an Enderman, one of the toughest creatures to take down. Some wondered how he could do it alone, as they had only heard of groups of men taking them down. There were other times when he was full of dirt and ash, carrying the skins of creepers (Gavin wore them as casual attire), or vials of their powdery remains. But he was the one to give meat to the villagers when first arriving. He always carried a diamond sword—a gift from Geoff—around his waist, a hand resting on the hilt in case of a threat nearby. No matter the cost—a scratch, a gash, or as serious as a stab wound—he would fight for the honor of the future first king of the kingdom, or for his friends within the kingdom’s walls. Becoming a personal guard to the king was not surprising to anyone. It would fit no one else but Michael. His wife, Lindsay, did not appreciate the wounds he would succumb to when fighting with locals or creatures, as her worries were vocalized, but she understood his ways. Villagers at first wondered why she was his wife, if she was rumored to be unable to handle his personality, but they soon learned how much she meant to him (especially after a certain villager lost his life after threatening to burn her house to the ground over something petty, forgetful of who her husband was). She was sometimes seen next to him fighting the same battles, watching over the perimeter near him. Some claimed she used her own weapon, made purely of black ore; others swore she took his diamond sword when he was unable to fight. It remained clear: it was not wise to mess with the warrior and his lady. 

The final man that all villagers came to know was Ray. Not much was known about him, nor did villagers seem to pry information out of him, but they usually had a codename for him: red. He was skillful in almost everything—sometimes he was seen collecting resources for the kingdom; other times, he was with the warrior and the fool fighting the creatures in the surrounding forests. He gave villagers the items they needed to survive in Achievia—mainly weaponry. Ray mostly kept to himself or with his friends, the ones who founded the kingdom in the first place. He was exploring the rest of the land to make sure no threats were in the area, and was always inspecting items found on patrols. He was good at telling villagers what they needed to know when they themselves went out into the forests and found items, or what they could do when encountering some beasts of nature. Villagers assumed he was furthering his knowledge of the crafts found, and how they could be combined, when he was alone with his own items. Other than that, the villagers only knew of physical traits: his house was not as structurally sound as others (he was fine with a small, quaint house, they concluded), he cared for roses (he would always bring a bundle back each time he ventured out), and he liked wearing either comfortable clothing, or black suits with red accents. When he fought, it was like he was dancing. He was quick, struck first when needed to fight, and tactful. It was a sight to see when he fought. They did not know of his humor, but only knew it made the king laugh, and the rest of his friends laugh with him. He, too, made for a knight, but no one understood the reasoning behind it. He did as he was told, and that was it.

The kingdom was rich and merry because of them. Sure, they had problems like other kingdoms: unruly villagers who wanted a piece of power, or more land than they would get; villagers who would die out in the forests and never return; a lack of supplies once the population grew. But the men and women in power made sure to keep their village content, to keep their kingdom alive. They worked hard to make sure their kingdom grew to an enormous height. The king himself made sure that each villager was happy, that they were stocked with enough food to last them however long they needed it, until the villagers got back on their own feet. Even the walks King Geoff made himself in the village below his castle did the kingdom well, as it boosted morale and comfort. The guards he sent down to the village—mostly Gavin, Ray, and Michael—kept the kingdom lively. Not a single person in the village could hate the king; he welcomed them with open arms and believed in them, and so they shall as well. 

This growth was something the mainland never understood. Achievia was out to sea, and the mainland had more than enough resources to last centuries. How they were receiving resources to grow was a question never answered. However, it seemed that with each passing day, the kingdom grew and grew, until the island was well populated and the people there seemed to prosper. 

So long as Achievia never attacked, it was not of vital concern, thought the monarchs.

And Achievia held its promise. There was no need to attack, the King himself vowed; they had everything they needed on the island. The villagers agreed. 

And they bowed before their king.

But there were villagers who rested uneasily at times. They would recount back to when they arrived sometimes, back to when they reached the island. They were greeted the same way by the men—Geoff, Jack, Gavin, Michael, Ray—but they swore, and swore, and swore—to their families, close friends, neighbors, whoever they so spoke to—there was another. They swore this man was there on the sea’s edge, making sure the boats arrived without harm or death. He was not as noticeable as the others: Geoff had ink on his arms; Jack had the workings of a standout beard; Michael was strong with his diamond sword; Gavin spoke with a different accent and was clumsier than the rest; even Ray stood out with the red roses in his hands. But not this man; he was—ordinary. They could remember seeing him pulling their ropes from the water, pulling them ashore, trying to make small conversation with those in the boat before Geoff greeted them away from him. The villagers do not remember what he was saying. Was it about how they would like it on this island? Or maybe it was their first welcome? They did not remember. They just remembered a man muttering to them, the sea crashing into the land and muting out his voice. But they would then be welcomed by Geoff, and the man by the boats was soon forgotten—in fact, was he even on the beach? Or was he the one who sailed with them to the shores of Achievia? 

And sometimes, these villagers swore there was another man in the group of friends, one who laughed and joked with the king, in knight’s armor. The others next to King Geoff were mighty and valiant, and were obvious helpers to the king. They were to be trusted, and always helpful to the king. But what about the man near him? What about the one with the small laugh and the almost too calm demeanor? The other villagers noticed him as well, and wondered where he came from, and who he was. They did not remember him from the beach, nor did they know him from anywhere in the village at all. Was his house in the village? Some speculated it to be outside, and others claimed it was right next to the castle itself. 

A hushed rumor started to spread through the village. Was it true? They were not sure. But he was a knight, and he was the most mysterious one of them all. It fueled the village, and caused it to burn. 

The rumor was thus: his name was Ryan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a story in the making for a few months now, and it's finally outlined and ready to be written. This will be a rather long story, so I hope you'll stay with me for the journey of the Mad King. 
> 
> If you want updates, or want to ask questions, don't hesitate to comment on here. You can also head over to my tumblr (themadkingreigns) if that's better for you.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	2. Nobility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _Not long ago, there was a man_   
>  _who craved for his very own land._   
>  _He gathered his group,_   
>  _And named them his troupe,_   
>  _To set sail for a kingdom to plan._   
> 

Soon after a castle towered over the sea, the voices within became louder and louder: a king must be crowned.

And so the title of becoming the first king was claimed almost immediately.

The king was crowned almost unanimously. There was no other name that spilled from the mouths inside the village, no other name that would dare be spilled in the slightest. It would have come as a surprise if the throne was given to anyone but the man who helped them the most to their new home. 

The whispers spread into the castle, and into the final decision of who the king would be: Geoff must be the first king.

It was not a particularly special day when Geoff was crowned the first king. The masses were told there would be a coronation, and they would not miss such an event. They watched as the, at the time of the coronation, future right-hand man recited a speech to the people. They saw Geoff emerge, the village becoming still and silent, as the crown was raised above his head. The world did not know who designed the crown, nor did the first king know his name. But the simple golden object had all eyes enamored by its grace.

The sky cleared when the golden crown rested upon Geoff’s head. He did not care about the weather, did not think about the sun beating down on the hundreds of heads who looked toward the sky to see a new beginning emerge; all he felt was the cold metal touching his skin. No one but he wore it before that moment. No one but he felt immediate power rush through his entirety, and it was he who laughed when he waved to his people once their cheers deafened his ears.

When he looked to them, he almost saw all in the village proud and glad to hail him as the first.

\- - -

_Almost._

\- - -

Months would pass, and the first king still held the throne.

To the naked eye, the village was ruled under a very structured and capable king. Geoff was well-liked and trusted by all within the land, and mighty enough to fit the very role of king. They praised his work no matter what would happen as an outcome, whether it was positive or negative. He seemed, to the naked eye, able to manage the problems of the village well when passing through his own kingdom. Even when villagers voiced their concerns to the knights, the problems seemed to be solved within a reasonable timeline. Those in the village praised their king, worshipped him when he was present (or even when he was secluded in his castle), and followed his every word. They followed without question. No one dared go against orders of their king, especially one who ruled well and was meant to be a ruler. 

But there was one who noticed problems within the kingdom, one who could not ignore it like the others. 

To him he saw a village blinded solely because of a new king standing before them. 

This man stood before the king one day with the other four knights entrusted by the king himself. These knights were not ordinary people from the village; they were his closest friends and acquaintances from years prior, and for a few, kingdoms prior. There was no shock by the kingdom that these men were given knighthood. There was also no ceremony for the five men before him. They stood before their king and committed their loyalty and honor to him and him alone, and the king took their words as their oaths. By the next day, the villagers had seen these men dressed in clothing different from the then small group of soldiers preparing to protect their king. These men were his knights. They were to be trusted.

The knights stood at the very bottom of the throne looking up at their king. Even those most trusted by the king were not allowed up the steps to the throne that rested at the top. No one but the king, as it was decreed the very first moment it was built, would step foot onto the stairs unless they were either instructed or meant to fight. The only footsteps that graced them were the king’s himself. Gold and red fabrics scaled the steps to the man in the golden chair wearing the crown. The king himself was dressed in a dark green, almost black, shirt, with black pants and boots to compliment. A red cape draped over his shoulders and one armrest to the chair as he leaned against it to support his head. He looked exhausted. It showed moments later when he yawned. 

A set of eyes strayed away from the king’s own. He was merely awaiting orders; he could not help but let his mind wander. He noticed the sunlight illuminating the room. It was early. The king liked to have meetings assembled early in the morning, when the day was still young. Still, it gave the man a chance to look around the room. The inside of the throne room was not regal in any sense (stone walls were not always pleasant to look at, especially when nothing hung from them), besides the throne that stood almost fifteen feet into the air. There were windows that showed all directions that surrounded the kingdom. Faded into the sky were kingdoms that stood taller than theirs, and were much larger in population. Behind the throne, the man recalled from memory, was the sea. The sea stirred below the castle and its crashing waves on the cliffs could be scarcely heard from the window. Other windows showed either the forest or the kingdom in which they resided. The village was coming alive during the morning. He could hear people opening their doors and greeting the others who lived near. When the man started to turn his head toward the noises outside the large window behind them, as the king declared he be seated in front of the larger window and balcony, he heard the king move in his chair. His attention was quickly brought back to the king. 

Geoff, instead of leaning against the back of the chair with his arm on the armrest, was now slouched forward, still looking at the knights. He was their friend, sure, but more importantly he was their king. Sometimes, though, he knew not of the words to say. Sometimes, he wished it were back in the past, when he did not have to worry about power and his difference with his own friends. When was the last time he had a drink with them? Or sat down to talk about their lives? He did not know. Other times, he would not dream of giving the power up. So, he merely sighed. “Alright, men,” he started. His voice was loud, yet not loud enough for the people below to hear, nor the people outside the room to hear either. He knew how to control his voice in case chaos erupted. Just the hint of his voice hushed the kingdom. The knights, though, knew the man was loud and boisterous—his laugh alone could carry on for miles, if the joke was right. “What do we got?”

A knight at the end of the line, holding a mere piece of paper, stepped forward. It was the king’s second-hand man, Jack. “My liege,” he started. “Some complain about a shortage of food, and wonder what plans you have implemented to solve it.” 

The king groaned, leaning back against the chair once more. “Not this again,” he sounded annoyed. The knights did not move. They watched their king pinch the bridge of his nose. They knew not what he thought, but knew of what he felt. In the midst of the silence, Geoff groaned. “I don’t know what they want me to do about it. It’s not like there are many resources to help out the shortage in the first place. Find some seeds and plant them in the ground, problem solved,” he said. A few snickers came from the knights. The knight opposite to Jack on the far end turned his head to look down the line at the lads. They all adorned smiles on their faces. 

Next to Jack, a man brought his hand over his heart. “Oh,” his voice was higher than normal, “but my liege,” he was being sarcastic, the knight could tell, “can’t you just spawn pigs with a snap of your fingers to feed us? Surely you have that power,” the warrior—Michael—said. The man on the end shook his head and looked back to the throne. To no surprise, the king smiled with them. The knight frowned. They were mocking the very villagers they welcomed into their kingdom some months ago. 

Geoff agreed. “Seriously, as though they do not understand how hunting works.” It was not that, the knight thought. It was the lack of leadership that had been implemented in the kingdom in the first place. He kept his mouth closed and continued to listen.

Another laugh came from the lads. He looked back down the line to see the lads murmuring to one another, perhaps joking about the villagers below. He had had enough; he turned to the throne once more. The knight on the end cleared his throat, hoping to get the attention of the king. He did not. Instead, over the stifling chuckles of his comrades, he merely asked: “Perhaps you could consider more long-term solutions?” 

Geoff’s smile began to fade as he turned his head, raising an eyebrow at the notion. Michael was the one to turn his head and scoff at the comment. “And what would that look like, Ryan? Breeding some poor wild chickens together?”

Ryan shrugged. He did not move his head to talk. He wanted to gauge the reaction of the king. “I mean, possibly,” he said. Geoff did not react. His eyes drifted to Michael.

A shorter knight next to Ryan cracked another joke. “Ryan just wants to see some animals bang,” they said, the accent strong. It was Gavin, one of the closest lads to the king and Michael. So it came to no shock that Gavin laughed with Michael. Ryan merely sighed. 

“Look,” he needed to convince his king. Geoff looked at him, which gave Ryan the impression he was at least listening to the idea. “it’s as simple as capturing some animals—chickens for the eggs, cows for the meat and leather, pigs for their pork—and creating a distributing system for the villagers. Might not be effective at first, because of such a short notice, but—”

Geoff threw up his hand. Ryan understood the signal: stop talking. It was not a new signal. In fact, Ryan was all too familiar with it, especially when talking to Geoff. It was quiet for only a moment before Geoff responded: “What makes you think this would work?” Silence. Ryan said nothing. Skepticism held over his head, and was growing in the other men in the room. The plan seemed logical enough to work, he thought. Why was he misunderstanding it? Why were the others immediately rejecting the idea of perhaps farming and collecting resources to fix a general problem for their kingdom? 

Geoff asked: “Are you some sort of farmer, Ryan?”

Ryan shook his head. “Well, no, but—”

“Are you able,” Geoff’s voice boomed over Ryan’s, completely muddling any words he had said, “to truly say, ‘Yes, my liege, this plan will undoubtedly work, because I have ruled as king before, and know how to fix this situation?’”

“Of course not,” Ryan balled his hand into a fist, the metal creaking in his armor, “but if you—”

“But nothing.” Ryan almost immediately stopped talking. Geoff leaned forward, hands moving as his lips also moved. “It would take up too much time to prepare for such a concept. We would have to go out and catch the animals, gather the seeds for a possible garden that might not even be successful, and take time out of training or other tasks to build such things in the first place. By the time preparations are finished, the villagers will have burned the kingdom down.” Ryan couldn’t believe his ears. Their king was not considering the plan because he believed it would take too much time? It would merely take perhaps a week, maybe less, to create the pens required to start their animal farm. Even planting seeds to harvest and distribute to the villagers would not take much time, with the right seeds and foods planted, and the right care. He could name a few villagers that would be most willing to take care of the garden, as their own little crops were growing wonderfully. 

Ryan took a step forward toward the throne, his armor daring to touch the red fabric draped to the ground. The other knights stayed silent, but wide-eyed. No other knight (or person) dared to step toward the king, and it was evident by Geoff’s expression it would most certainly become the last. “Think of how much food would come out of this, though,” Ryan started. Geoff did not move in his seat, but his face became disgruntled by the minute. “Instead of killing the sources of our food, we could be producing our own. When done right, chickens could produce eggs at a constant rate. Pigs could be mated, then bred and slaughtered, when at the right size. The same could be said about cows. It would take some time to get it right, yes, but it would be better for the village than having them fend for days without food, don’t you think?”

Geoff just stared at the knight below him. He looked like an ant waiting to be crushed beneath the feet of the mighty. How bold, he thought. Ryan could’ve sworn the king’s face darkened. “Are you asking me,” Geoff started; the tone in his voice was low and dangerous, “the king of this village, what is best for my villagers?”

Ryan stared back at Geoff. Disbelief had become more evident on his face. It soon was clear there was anger in the knight’s eyes. “I’m asking you whether you want your villagers to starve or not, Geoff.”

There was a beat in the room, as though a pin could be dropped on the ground and its sound would echo into the hallway. It was a tense beat, one that was too familiar to those in the room with them. All the knights below the king looked toward Geoff, watching as he rose to his feet from slamming his palms against the throne’s armrests. “That is _liege_ to you, _knight_!” His voice was loud, angry, and echoed against the walls for a moment after it was said. All were sure those outside the castle and inside had heard it—perhaps not what was said word-for-word, but the tone was sure to make them worry in fear.

The words rang in Ryan’s ears, and he was certain the others held onto what was said. In the time Geoff had been king, he had never called a person by their rank. It was always something the knights noticed with Geoff. There was no place to use ranks when names worked just as well. Even when the knights did not use a formality for the king—usually it would be Michael or Gavin calling him by his actual name—Geoff would not lash out at the person. No, he would simply stand in silence until the other person corrected themselves, and Geoff would try to make the incident lighter by laughing about it. But as the king stood in front of his throne, eyes glaring down at Ryan, they knew it would be quite the opposite. Geoff did not witness him back off. Instead, Ryan stood in the same place, anger only filling his mind and spirit. 

“Remember it well.” 

The rest of the knights merely stood at ease, witnessing the tension rise between one king and one knight. They did not dare speak of the tension either. It had lasted for years between the friends, and they knew it would last longer. Time did not bode well for the acquaintances in the throne room. They only moved when Geoff began to walk down the steps of the throne, a signal to the rest to straighten up and prepare for the weekly duties in the village. Ryan took a step away from the throne, stepping back in line with the rest of the men. Michael heard Geoff mutter: “Enough of this.” The rest seemed not to stir. Gavin and Ray glanced at one another quickly before Geoff reached the bottom of the stairs. Jack stayed poised and ready to listen to his king. Ryan looked forward to the throne, hoping the anger would dissipate in time before Geoff was near. He did not know what he would be capable of doing if the king said the wrong words. 

The knights looked forward as their king made his way around behind them. It was a ritual of theirs. Every day at the beginning of the week, the knights would stand in front of their king to relay any problems the villagers had—some more ridiculous than others—and the king would hand out duties to his knights by walking behind them. There was no reason to it, nor an explanation; Geoff merely chose to do things that way, and it would be done. The duties never really changed amongst the knights, either. Jack would not have the pleasure of hunting in the raw hours of night, nor would Gavin have to become the right-hand man to Geoff. But, they would not miss the ritual merely because it was repetitive. They had their orders, and standing in front of the throne was one of them. They would obey—no matter how much some cared not to.

Geoff stood behind Jack. The rest listened. “Jack,” Geoff sounded calm, compared to the outbursts moments before, “you are to lay forth what needs to be done for the week. Prepare any meetings with the counsel and any knights who wish to brief on the status of the kingdom. Bring any documents meant to be read and signed by the week’s end, and any propositions that may have been sent from other kingdoms.” Geoff almost laughed about the last bit. None of the kingdom’s wished to contact theirs. He hadn’t a slight clue why—perhaps it was because his kingdom was infinitely better than theirs. Wishful thinking, he thought. He knew he would not have any propositions from other lands, but he made the remark anyhow. He was going to move onto his warrior when he stopped, and turned back to Jack. “Also,” he added, “refresh yourself on a few discussions we have had in the past about the kingdom. They will be important to discuss, especially today.” Geoff looked down the line to Ryan, but said nothing else.

“I shall, my liege,” Jack responded. Geoff smiled and patted Jack on the shoulder. The rest knew how much respect and trust was held between the two men. It was no secret. 

Geoff stepped forward and stood behind Michael, who always rested his hand on his sword no matter if he were at ease or not. The king wished he would relax in the castle, but Michael was the one who suggested he always be prepared for any combat, and he respected that. “Michael, I’m going to need you to, and it disappoints me, kill more and bring more food for the village. Food supply is running low, and we cannot have our villagers displeased.” There was a tinge of annoyance in Geoff’s voice as he relayed Michael’s duties, and there was brief anger that flashed on Michael’s face, but he understood. Michael felt Geoff’s hand rest on the center of his back, patting him once, twice. “I can always count on my warrior to do the job well.”

Michael smirked. “You have my word, my liege.”

“Good,” Geoff said, before moving on to Ray. Ray was more relaxed than the others, but he did not move an inch as Geoff spoke. It was part of his personality and charm. “Ray, you will be monitoring the village with Gavin,” to which Gavin tensed and straightened his posture, “and protecting the citizens and relaying any information back to the castle each day. I don’t expect much from the villagers, but do so anyway. I can trust you will not cause any chaos within my kingdom?” Ray did not move, but Gavin turned his head toward Geoff, who had an incredulous look on his face.

“That was one time!”

Geoff frowned. “One time too many, Gavin,” Geoff replied. Gavin sighed and turned back again. Ray did not look back as he spoke.

“We will, my liege.”

Geoff nodded. “I know you will. Keep an eye on Gavin as well.” The rest heard the younger man groan, and the other lads snickered. Geoff teasing Gavin was nothing new, and was always a good way to enjoy entertainment. They would need it when Geoff began to walk again, this time to stand behind the knight who fought him earlier. Ryan merely stared up at the throne, shoulders tense and back straight. The least Ryan could hold was his dignity after the recent incident. Geoff looked the man up and down. As much as he angered the king, he knew he would have to be the one to save face and be honorable in the situation. 

“As for you, Ryan,” Geoff started, his voice a little higher and more annoyed than before. Ryan breathed in and out, monitoring and checking his own breathing to calm his nerves. Gavin slightly turned his head to look at Ryan. Geoff continued. “Because of the,” Geoff paused to think of a better term than ‘insubordination,’ “outburst earlier, I have a new duty for you. It isn’t demeaning or a demotion, but maybe one that will teach and refresh your memory on how to respect a king on his throne.” Ryan clenched his jaw. He would not speak back, he thought. Gavin looked back to the throne. “Perhaps the refresher can be with your squire of yours and help him with combat training. God knows the young squire cannot kill a man, much less swing a sword.” Ryan heard the lads chuckle at the comment. 

They were talking about his squire, Kerry. While the other knights chose taller, fitter, and more trained squires to assist them with whatever they needed, Ryan took it upon himself to assign Kerry as his squire. The man was the only friend he had made in the village while living there (aside from a friend he had known in a previous kingdom), and Ryan could trust the younger gentleman. It was unfair to Kerry, however, to receive such treatment from the other knights—ruthless teasing, jokes, and other comments were always directed toward him, and Ryan usually defended him. It, perhaps, made the situation worse, as the lads (and sometimes the king himself) continued their teasing, but Kerry seemed unaffected by the torment. In the long run, Ryan did not regret making the man his squire. It gave him pride to teach him how to fight and prepare for battle. 

Ryan heard Geoff hum. It brought his attention back to the throne room. Geoff mumbled the next part to Ryan, and only to him. “Although, how much respect does someone like yourself know?” Ryan turned his head to the right, hoping to get a glimpse of Geoff walking back to the throne. It was unsuccessful, as Geoff turned the other way and walked toward Jack. He heard one, two, three, four, five, six, seven footsteps against the concrete floor, then there was silence for a brief moment. Ryan figured Geoff turned toward the knights, taking one last look at them. Then:

“Dismissed.”

\- - -

It was scorching outside. To the villagers, they thought it was cooler than normal, especially with the breeze from the sea. Since it was summer, they were used to the blistering heat. But to the knights in the center of the village, their armor burned against their bare skin underneath. The sun was high in the sky when they left the castle for their assignment. They did not realize that much time had passed in the castle. So on the stone steps they stood, looking out toward the small (but growing, as the king liked to reassure his men) kingdom before them. Not much seemed to occur as they looked out—most villagers were either working on their homes or working near the forest to maintain some sort of garden—but they would patrol to keep the village orderly. The village never had an incident occur, but Geoff wanted to keep it as such. Order was rule, as he liked to put it.

The three lads stood there. The villagers did not seem to notice them. The one in the middle stretched and began to descend from the steps. “No use standing around, gentlemen,” Michael said. His armor clinked against the stone. The two others shook their heads, smirks on their faces. 

“You actually want to be out in this heat?” Ray asked. Michael shrugged, his own smirk growing. 

“At least I won’t be in this heavy armor,” he teased. Gavin groaned, rolling his head to the side. 

“Seriously, we need better armor to deal with this heat,” the man complained. 

Ray nudged him. “Hey, maybe we can get the villagers to complain about it, and Jack will relay it back to Geoff.” The comment earned a snicker from the other lads. 

“I bet Ryan would come up with some excuse in favor of this stuff,” Michael added. The three held their smirks, even shared glances, but none said a word about it. It was not the first time Ryan had crossed the king about complaints from the village, nor would it be his last. They knew where their honor lied. “Seriously, Geoff has this all taken care of. The guy needs to relax.”

Gavin nodded. Michael wiped his forehead with his hand, which coated itself in sweat. “Like I said,” he remarked, waving his hand in the air to the others, “no use standing around. I’m sure Lindsay will enjoy killing hogs in this heat.”

The other two chuckled, before waving their hands in the air back toward their friend. The two mumbled a simple “godb’w’ye” before lowering their hands. Michael returned the gesture. It was not mandatory within the kingdom to use such an address, but it was Ray and Michael who had kept the tradition, and shared it with others. From their previous kingdom, it was necessary to send off any man with the saying, or it meant ill feeling toward the other. Ray claimed he heard it was superstition, due to a man not receiving such a send off and being massacred during a battle; Michael merely mentioned it as a family tradition. The rest acclaimed it toward honor and respect. Only Geoff strayed from the rest, once the throne was his—the saying, he claimed, did not seem regal enough.

Two lads stood on the steps and watched their friend walk toward his home. It was a simple hut, nothing flashy, but one he liked to call home. They knew what would happen within those walls: his wife, Lindsay, would welcome him home, and ask what happened within the walls. Perhaps he would say, perhaps not. It depended on his mood. Most of the time, he shared the contents of the castle with her, even though Geoff had his fair share about that kind of business. He would tell her that his duty lied within the forest, and if she wished to accompany him. She, of course, would agree. She spent most of her time in the house otherwise. She’d rather spend her time with him. Perhaps they would share a meal before they left—most of the time they would—or maybe they would pack a meal for the road. They would prepare for their hunt by laying out their outfits and packing any necessities they may need. Michael would make sure to grab the sword he used for hunting—the one he held by his hip in the kingdom was merely for show—and help Lindsay with whatever she needed done. Usually it was help locking up their home, although they knew no one would step foot inside. 

Then, they were outside an hour, maybe two later, adorned in their battle gear. He would be draped with the fur of a bear, marked with the blood of a hog, and heavily armed with the sword passed down through blood. They questioned the colors of his other attire (blue and yellow together?), but with the carrier on his back to hold the food, it somehow fit. Lindsay would also be marked with the blood of a hog, would cloak herself with the skin of a beast within the darkness—some called them “Endermen”—and was armed with a simple bow crafted by a blacksmith within the kingdom. Her attire matched her hair, as though she were on fire. Together, they were the warriors no one dared fought. 

They would not be seen until the end of the week. 

The two lads on the steps sighed. Meanwhile, they were stuck in the kingdom—again. Gavin, who sometimes accompanied Michael on the hunt, looked over at Ray and nudged him. Ray turned his head. “Bollocks that he gets to change his attire, don’t you agree?” 

Ray couldn’t help but nod. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little jealous. “Yeah, but what can you do?” 

Gavin flashed a smile. “Like Geoff will know we changed, right?”

Ray flashed a smile back. 

In mere moments—perhaps it had taken longer than expected, as their own families wished for some conversation with the men—they were patrolling not in heavy armor, but in attire that suited them best. With swords strapped to their hips, and shields latched on their backs, the two men stood in the center of the village, content. Ray wore simple black slacks with a white buttoned-down long-sleeved shirt, with black boots laced up his legs and long black gloves up his arms. He told the rest he liked to wear gloves so he never had to worry about blood on his hands. The rest accepted it. Gavin, however, rather liked to be flashier. He wore a green top and brown slacks, all accented with gold boots high on his legs. He also wore a cloak—the skin of a creeper. Michael was the one to ask why he wore a creeper’s skin, and how he even came to acquire such a thing. Gavin explained that it was the first monster he had ever killed on his own. He never answered how he had done it. 

Gavin stretched. “Feels top not wearing that armor, doesn’t it?” And Ray nodded, stretching on his own. It was rather comforting not wearing the armor. The only time the knights seemed to not wear it was either in their own homes or when they were on a hunting duty with Michael and Lindsay. To feel the fresh, cool breeze from the sea instead of almost burning alive in the metal suit was something they were both thankful for. Perhaps it was not wise to be left defenseless, but in a village like theirs, they were not worried for any attack on their beings. And, okay, maybe Geoff would be upset they were not in their armor when they would express concern to him by nightfall, but they would both agree it was worth it.

“Better start our patrol, yeah?” Ray asked, as he looked up toward the balcony. None watched, but both knew there was always someone standing over and eying their moves. And so the men walked. They could visibly see the dirt stick to their boots, but they only looked to their feet when they listened to the other talk. Sometimes, they talked about their families and what they were doing for fun. Other times, they talked about villagers they happened to pass on their patrol and speak ill of them (“Did you happen to notice what they were wearing?” “I know! Did their old village happen to be color blind?”). And sometimes, they just liked to walk in silence, watching the villagers work on their own projects and talk to them instead. The villagers usually had nothing important to say, but they shared complaints that seemed to be widespread (“We are starting to ration food in our home. Is there any extra food that could be spared?” “The wood from my roof seems to be cracked and able to break at any moment. Could it be possible to bring men to our home to help repair it?”). Most were ignored.

Others were relayed back to the king, who decided whether to ignore or accept. It depended on his mood. 

Patrolling was something no knight truly wanted. They were only paired with someone else because if a knight had no one to converse with, they would go mad with their own thoughts. It was not a very large kingdom. The entire kingdom of Achievia was comprised of one village, and the village could be seen right from the balcony. It meant going up and down the same streets multiple times an hour, and seeing the same villagers do the same tasks they were doing moments before multiple times. Sometimes, the villagers asked for help, and the knights would always quickly oblige. Not because they wished to be helpful, but because it helped pass the time and meant they did not have to circle the village again for at least a few minutes. 

There were times patrolling was met with vitriol. It would not be toward the knights themselves, but toward the king instead. As Gavin and Ray walked down a random path, a man sat outside his home. The knights did not turn to him until he started to talk. “Your king is sitting rather prettily up there on his throne, isn’t he?”

Gavin frowned. “What are you going on about?” He didn’t know the villager’s name. It was surprising if he knew more than ten.

“My family, knight,” the man retorted. “Starving like poor people, yet the king probably gets four meals a day. Must be nice to live like that, huh?”

Ray shrugged. “Never thought about it.”

The man chuckled. “Bet not.”

The two knights exchanged glances, and were going to say something to the man, but instead heard: “Godb’w’ye.” They turned back to see the man’s hand in the air. They quickly mumbled it back to him. 

Then, the patrol would commence. 

There were also times when the two could not help but engage in conversation about the inner-workings of the castle. They relied on each other more ways than one, especially times in the past (“Ray, behind you!” “Thanks, Gavin!”). They also entrusted the other with information some never knew or would know, some secrets more serious than others. It was nice to have such a man as a friend. Gavin was thankful, Ray likewise. 

It was not until near sundown when Gavin turned toward his friend and hesitated to speak. They all felt the tension in the air about the situation within the throne room. They all had their opinion about what had happened and what should have been done, regarding Ryan and his outburst toward Geoff. Gavin merely felt the need to listen. 

“Hey, Ray?” He asked. His voice was low. Ray brought his attention to Gavin, away from the villagers who were wishing the knights a peaceful evening. 

“Yeah?” He answered. Gavin looked around as they walked around a corner, away from most of the crowds in the village. Some were preparing to sleep, while others were finishing their tasks of the day. They seemed not to care about their discussion. 

“What’s your take on what happened with Geoff and Ryan?” 

There was a beat, a mere hesitation that followed. Gavin sensed it. He saw how Ray did not react to the question, yet did not miss Ray briefly looking to ears that were not meant to hear such troubles. It was not long before Ray would answer—he shrugged. “What’s there to say, really?”

Gavin scoffed at the comment. Of course, Ray would be the one to be more nonchalant about the ordeal than anyone else. He was never one to get into such troubles. “Come on, you must have some kind of opinion about it.”

Ray sighed. “I mean,” Ray paused. They walked around another corner of the village to stride down. “I get where Ryan is coming from, when he talks about building some sort of system, but—” And again, Ray stopped. He could not form his opinion into words, but knew where his honor and trust lied: Geoff. It would not be the first nor last time Ray sided with the king, in terms of arguments between him and Ryan. 

“But what?” Gavin asked. Ray popped out of his thoughts. 

He shook his head. “But Geoff must know something we don’t, and must know it won’t work,” Ray replied. He was the king after all. He knew the kingdom better than any other in the castle. 

Gavin hummed. “Ryan seemed so intent on caging some animals up, as though they were meant to be controlled or something, you know?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know what that’s all about,” Ray replied back. He wished the conversation would end, truth be told. He knew Gavin was trying to pull information from him, in case Gavin wanted to relay it back to the king at all. Ray took an oath to follow the king in any endeavor that may happen. He would not break it. He followed, and he obeyed. It was as simple as that. And he would not question the king, nor would he ever disagree.

Gavin knew the mood had turned sour. Ray was not one to talk about the politics within the castle, mainly because he was friends with everyone. He would rather talk and tease about them than say such a sour comment toward another. It was interesting, though, how his faith rested with Geoff, yet somehow Gavin could sense his conscience with Ryan, in terms of the situation that occurred some hours previous. 

Instead of instigating the problem, Gavin opened his mouth once more, nudging the man to his right. Ray snapped out of his thoughts once more. “What say we bother that old man down near the castle, yeah? He’s got to have some kind of ridiculous story today.”

Ray smiled. “Probably saw you stark naked in your own home.” He started jogging down the street. Gavin shrieked. 

“Hey!” And he chased after Ray.

He was not far behind. 

\- - -

Two men crashed into one another, swords clanging and grunts filling the air. One sword was pure silver in color; the other looked pure black. One of the men looked up to the other and grimaced, holding his position, while the other did not show any sort of struggle holding the man down. It was quick. The taller gentleman moved his sword to the left, in hopes of unbalancing the other man. The shorter man released one hand from the sword, held the taller man’s wrist to give pause to the attack, and held the sword in his other hand. Spinning, the shorter man tried to swing his sword into his foe, but found himself blocked as the other broke free from his hold. Swords clanged again, but the shorter man had already lost. His back was turned to the foe, and there was no way to break free from the hold the other had on his free arm. “I yield,” he called out. 

Soon, his wrist was free. His sword did not have another sword pushed against it, and he heard footsteps falling back. The shorter man turned to his foe. He stabbed his sword into the sand and dirt, and gasped for air. They had been going at it for quite some time, and the sun was not giving them a break either. The shorter man heard a voice call out: “Again.”

He looked up. A man dressed in black—he was rolling up his sleeves while adjusting his orange plaid sash draping his chest, with black pants and mid-high boots—did not look tired. No, he looked as though he was searching for a fight of his own. He was already getting back into position to fight when the shorter man shook his head, holding out a hand in plea. “Might we take a break, sire?” The man across from him froze, then straightened his posture. He did not look pleased. “I do not have the strength to hold my sword much longer.”

“And what of in battle, squire?” Battle, as it was mentioned in the castle, was something they feared. Although there had been no threats on the kingdom, they still feared of some surprise attack that could come from neighboring kingdoms. Most men had been preparing with other knights and squires. It had been days since the pairing in the area had been training for any sort of battle. The taller man sheathed his sword and began to walk toward him. “Your enemy will not care if your strength has depleted.”

He did not sound pleased, and did not seem willing to back down from the request. The shorter man asked: “Is war expected to come to Achievia, sir Ryan?”

Ryan stopped in front of him. He sighed. “No—no, squire Kerry,” he replied. “There have been no warnings.” There had not been any warnings since the start of the kingdom, almost a year ago. It was not expected that there would be war any time soon. 

Kerry looked around, holding out his arms for an answer. “Then—what reason is there to continue?” 

There was none. Ryan was unwilling to admit it. “I—” He paused. He looked at Kerry and saw how exhausted the man was, with sweat beading down his face and as he gasped for some air. It did not help the squire that he looked defeated; the dirt and numerous bruises and cuts received from mere training made him look ragged. Finally, Ryan nodded. “We may rest.” He did not wish to over-exert the man, and he would not want an angry king over his shoulders as he tried to explain how a squire ended up nearly losing his life—as though it scared him. 

So he was glad to see Kerry excited and relieved over the news, hanging his head and sighing. His muscles ached, and his lungs felt as though they were on fire. He did not understand how Ryan, in full black attire, was not at least sweating profusely. Kerry thought his modest attire—a blue and white patterned shirt with black pants and mid-high boots—would be light enough from the sun. He was proven wrong. He gathered enough strength and energy to grip his sword and yank it from the dirt. He stumbled back when it was free, but he managed to sheath the sword. 

Ryan directed him toward a stone wall soldiers and knights typically used to rest their own bodies. Kerry had never felt more comfort than at that moment. Sure, the rocks were not generous to his bottom, but just to rest his legs felt as though he had been in heaven. Ryan turned away from Kerry, who hung his head to catch his breath, to gather water from the well for both of them. And when he turned back with a full cup for his squire, he thought his own hand had been taken with the cup. He chuckled at the sight of his squire gulping the water down. Seconds later, the squire had finished his drink and let out a sigh of satisfaction. “You have gifted me with such a treat, sire.”

“It’s merely water,” he continued to chuckle, getting another drink for the younger man. Kerry did not rip at his hand for the cup that time. 

Kerry chuckled with him, before silence was brought between the two. The squire had noticed something in battle, something that had only happened when the knight was perturbed and angry. The squire knew what the anger was from. He looked to Ryan. “You are still bothered.”

Ryan sighed before tipping his cup back to take a drink. It was true. When the refreshing drink slid down his throat, he opened his mouth to talk, although he was exasperated about the conversation. “It’s—”

Kerry could tell his frustrations were getting the best of him. “Geoff,” he finished Ryan’s thought. 

Ryan nodded. “Yes,” he turned his head toward the dirt on the ground, anger growing. Perhaps it was more of annoyance. It felt more like pure rage. “I still do not understand why he does not merely try to expel the problem.” And he probably never would, he thought. Why, of all things, would a king keep a problem so persistent? Would a person not think a king would help his people right away during such a drought? 

Kerry thought almost the exact same thing. He could feel Ryan’s frustrations, especially with how long the two had known the other, since the coronation of the knights. He was as shocked to see him adorned with armor. With the rumors that had spread in the village, they were sure he would be stuck as a villager instead of holding an honor like that. Kerry never found the reason why Ryan was hailed as a knight. He was okay with never finding the reason out. “He has not accepted a solution of yours since the kingdom has existed, sire.”

Ryan let out a low chuckle. “That is to be expected.”

It would be unexpected if Geoff trusted the man. The long history between the two men did not prove to be one that ended well. Kerry never heard the story, and accepted the fact he would never hear it. He was sure the story was one that could fill a large quantity of paper. He merely trusted Ryan’s word. 

Still, he asked: “How did you become a knight if he does not trust your judgment?”

It was a question on everyone’s mind. Even the knights that were closest to Geoff did not understand the decision. They asked the king himself about the choice to have him as a knight, but Geoff did not say a word about the incident. He only told them that he was king, and they should respect his decision. So they obeyed, and the question was never brought up again. Still, the villagers wondered how Ryan was even a candidate for knighthood. They were not close friends as the others were, and it was only when Geoff was in a decent mood that Ryan could make him laugh. Otherwise, it was a strained relationship. 

Ryan shrugged. “I do not know. Perhaps he feared me then.” Kerry wondered what Geoff had to fear when it came to Ryan. Then again, Ryan was an enigma. 

Kerry did not know what to say. The only thing that came to his mind was something generic and wrong for the knight. “Maybe he knows something you do not, sire.” Maybe it was true. Maybe Geoff knew they were stocked plenty with food. It was wishful thinking. “The king does try to do what is best for the kingdom, and best for his men in the castle.” Ryan turned to Kerry, a frown on his face.

“If he had known something, he would have had an explanation in front of the same men you speak of.” Which was true, Kerry thought. 

“If it is any consolation, the king may be considering your plan at this moment, and—”

Ryan started to talk when Kerry was talking himself. “You and I both know, squire, that it simply is not true—”

“And,” Kerry continued, silencing the knight next to him, “he may have a solution to the problem in mere time.” Kerry reached out and slapped his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan only blinked and did not look to the squire. He wished to be left to his thoughts. Instead, he heard: “Have faith, sire.”

There was a small silence between the two men. Ryan turned his head to look at the man next to him, who held his shoulder with a firm grip. The conversation was going in an utter circle, he thought. So he changed course, one that he was able to control. “Is this the same faith you have regarding the king and the other knights?”

Kerry quickly looked confused, but worried. The grip loosened. “Sire?” His arm completely dropped. 

“Do not play dumb,” Ryan replied. Kerry wondered how he knew. “The amount of flack you get from the other men, and the king himself, is staggering. How are you not upset about it?”

He was upset. Every night, he was exhausted from trying to keep a front with the others. Being ignored, teased, and criticized with every move he made him tired. But he did not want trouble. “Sire, I do not know of which you speak.”

Ryan leaned away from Kerry. He was shocked the squire was not agreeing with him easily. “Oh?” He questioned. “They do not belittle you in front of crowds with any chance they can get?”

Kerry shook his head, looking away from Ryan. No, he thought. He at least had some respect from the men—right? “I—” He started, but did not get very far. Ryan continued.

“Or how about when they laugh at you when you speak your mind to the king, and the king joins in on their fun?” 

( _“My liege.”_

_“Yes, squire Kerry?”_

_“Where might I find a replacement sword? One of the soldiers appears to have lost his before training.”_

_“Idiot, why don’t you try something called the armory? I wonder what hides there.”_

_“Sir Michael, I—”_

_“We have this guy in the castle? We’re really stretching for guys here.”_

_“Sir Ray—”_

_“Sooner or later I would have had to recruit children into the castle.”_

_“I thank you for your help. Godb’w’ye.”_ )

“Perhaps you would like to tell me how it feels when they turn away, muttering to each other, when you want to get in on their conversations.”

( _Kerry had seen the knights on one end of the room. He walked over and said his greetings, but the knights merely looked to him and rose their eyebrows, questioning his appearance at all without any word. They turned back and continued their conversation without acknowledging him. Kerry understood. He turned to talk to other squires, but even they spoke ill of him some days. Not all—he did hold one friend that treated him kindly. It was another squire named Miles. They were good friends, and would stay as such. Still, it bothered him when the whispers reached his ears and he heard how much of a bother he was to others, when in reality he had done nothing to them whatsoever._ )

“I—” It was enough. The memories from the castle haunted him, and he sighed. Ryan was one of the few he could trust with any sort of information, and the knight did ask how he felt about the exchanges. So he answered it. “I wish they would respect me more, sire.” Kerry hung his head. It was possible he felt shame at the moment, but it was more of a sadness that he expressed.

It was Ryan’s turn to comfort the man, and he did so with a pat on his back. “As do I, squire.” Kerry lifted his head and looked at Ryan. There on his face was pity.

“Why don’t they respect me?” He asked. It was a simple question. Perhaps a simple answer was not easy to obtain. “I have done nothing ill toward them, and yet they treat me like a dog.”

Ryan leaned toward Kerry, his hand clenching the fabric of the chest piece, and whispered: “We shall show them and earn their respect.”

Kerry was surprised. He would earn respect among his men? “How?” He asked. Ryan smirked.

“We train,” he replied. Kerry grimaced, but Ryan shook his head. “It must be done if you wish to have their respect. We show we can be the men the kingdom needs, truly and honestly.”

Kerry wanted to believe. “And that will earn their respect?”

“Without a doubt,” Ryan quickly said. He rose from the wall with a push. The sun still beat on them, but the heat had come and gone. Ryan stretched. It would be another few hours before they would be done. He held out a hand to his squire. “Come,” he said, “let us train.” And before a second could pass, Kerry’s hand joined his, and the squire was back on his feet. By the look of it, Ryan believed Kerry looked rejuvenated and ready to fight. He felt pride swell in his chest. 

As Ryan turned and walked to where he needed to be to practice, his hand on his sword, he heard a voice call out. “Sire?”

He turned to Kerry. “Yes, squire?”

“Perhaps—” Kerry lifted his head and looked at the knight. There was a hand on the hilt of his sword. Yes, Ryan thought. He was ready. 

“Perhaps he fears you still.”

Ryan smirked. Maybe it was wrong, and maybe there had been eyes watching them and listening the entire time. The risk was worth the music. He crouched a little, swinging his sword in his hand while the other hand was held out toward Kerry. Kerry held the same posture. 

“Again.”

\- - -

The forest was not typically populated with villagers. Some tried to stay away as much as possible, for the stories from the warrior and his lady scared them enough. They heard of beasts that crackled in the night, monsters whose bright, purple eyes stared from an abyss, and ghouls who did not seem to live and breathe. Instead, they put their faith into the two warriors to scout and protect an entire kingdom from these beasts of burden. It was rather large for two to patrol, but they did not question how the pair came to succeed each time they left. They knew they were protected, and that was enough to ease their sorry minds. 

And so there sat the two warriors upon different branches, with a bright moon lighting the otherwise dark forest. In previous days, they were farther from the kingdom, perhaps in different corners that they had not reached in other hunts. They were due back to the castle in two days time, and so they travelled forth. A calm breeze rustled the leaves. Whispers entered the darkness.

“You know, you haven’t said much about what happened in the castle.”

The warrior looked down. It was his wife, who cloaked with the darkness when night fell. Her black cape sometimes scared even the mighty warrior himself, for she blended with the atmosphere quite well. If it weren’t for her auburn hair, and her blaring red and orange attire, he could see how some would mistake her for the dark beasts from below. So when he looked down to her, he noticed her preparing to strike something in the field before them. It was a mere hog.

He slightly shrugged, moving on his branch above hers. He detested the uncomfortable feeling of the hunt, instead of being in his bed (which he had not visited for almost a month). “Not much to say. Had a talk about problems in the village, got our duties—what more is there?” 

When his wife pulled the arrow back and aimed for the animal, the warrior looked down at the prey. It clearly had no idea it was being hunted, for it only munched on grass and made small grunts from time to time. He only raised his eyebrow when the bow snapped and the arrow missed its target. He heard her shuffle against the branch, a sign of annoyance he grew to understand. “Damn.” She reached back into her cloak, an arrow at her fingertips. “What kind of problems?”

The warrior looked back to his wife and found her loading her bow again. Another arrow was against the string, and it was pulled back. A small breeze entered the trees, causing the leaves to stir. She sat still. He contemplated on telling her things that happened in the castle, but a part of him did not want Geoff’s secrets to be spilled into the village, lest there be more rumors abound. The king also had made his opinion clear on whether to tell families of the events within the castle, especially the throne room (“You may tell them, but it will not be my head to roll on the ground if it brings chaos to my kingdom”). The warrior rubbed his eyes behind his glasses—he was tired. Hunts lasted for, most of the time, six days. The sixth was dedicated to dividing the food amongst villagers and the royals within the castle. It took his toll usually around the fourth day. 

He held back a yawn before saying: “Just—okay, promise you won’t go opening your mouth to anyone else?”

The bow cracked again, and the warrior opened his eyes to find an arrow embedded into the eye of a hog. It stumbled at first, making a loud grunting sound as it stood in agony. He could see blood pour from its eye and head. It was not long before it made an awful sound before hitting the forest floor. He did not know when it had died, but it had not been a quick and merciless death for the animal. “Have I ever spilled the secrets of the king before, Michael?” A whisper next to him came. Michael stared at the dying animal, knowing he had a part in its fall. It would not be before the moon hid behind the clouds that he would turn to his wife once more. She was proud. 

“No, Lindsay, but—” He was cut off. There were groans and moans of a different kind, ones that came when too much noise had been made. The two halted their conversation to watch as the demons stumbled into the clearing. There were all kinds of monsters who came—one born of darkness, one born of destruction, and two born of Hell. These monsters and beasts roamed around the carcass of the fallen, as though examining the prey and wondering what had gone awry. Lindsay did not speak until it was certain the monsters did not catch wind of their position, and it was not such a long wait. 

“‘But’ nothing, Michael.” There was a pause. More groans entered the air, and more of the prey came to congregate with those who arrived first. Lindsay beamed up to Michael, who had his eyes set on the field. “See? I told you I could hit him from up here.”

To keep the hunt entertaining, the two of them would come up with a bet of some sort. Most of the time, Lindsay would complete her bets, while Michael struggled the most (he would not live down her request of him killing two monsters at once—that was and would never be possible). Michael mumbled something back; it earned a small laugh. Still, the thought of talking about the inner tension between the knights and the king was something he did not want to disclose. But, Lindsay was the one person he could always trust, no matter where they were or what they were doing. Besides, he thought, she deserved to know something. After all, they were living in the kingdom themselves. 

It was not long before Michael turned and looked at her. She stared back. “Lindsay, what do you think about the food supply in the village?”

“The food supply?” Michael nodded. She scrunched up her face in thought (he not-so-secretly loved it). They sat and listened to the creatures roam; the groans entered their ears and filled the silence. Lindsay hummed. What kind of food was in their pantry?

Michael shifted once more on the branch, dangling his legs as he turned to her. “Yeah, do—I don’t know, do you think it’s becoming a problem?”

She looked down at the cuts of meat below. If it weren’t bad, would they be out nearly every day hunting for monsters and creatures? And if it weren’t bad, wouldn’t there be more meat and foods gathered for the kingdom? She looked back up at Michael. “It’s getting a little scamp, I suppose.” And it was. She heard the chatter in the village about the families lacking the resources for certain meals. They had always done their best to provide for the people, but with limited resources in the land, it was proving to be a challenge. “Why? Was it brought up?”

He nodded again. “Yeah, Jack told Geoff the villagers were concerned, but—I didn’t think there was a problem.”

Lindsay grunted. Michael knew she disagreed. “Well, the rations we bring do not necessarily supply the kinds of families in the kingdom. More and more people have to manage their food intake more, and sometimes that means missing meals.”

“Really?” It was the first time he had heard such a thing. “Are the villagers saying they are starving?”

Lindsay nodded. “It is not prevalent yet, but I have heard the Burns household complain of a lack of food.” The Burns had lived next door to the two, and had a good relationship with them. Their family was not large, but it was average for the village, and if an average household could not maintain a well-balanced food supply, what of the larger families?

Michael scoffed, and seemed to roll his eyes. She could not tell in the darkness. “They can’t just expect food to come so easily, especially when you have to feed the forces of Achievia as well.” He sounded frustrated, and she understood. 

“Maybe, but they shouldn’t have to cut back on something so necessary. I could understand if it were emeralds or diamonds, but food? Even we don’t eat like we should, Michael.”

It was the truth. He had begun to notice how their meals were shrinking each week. It had not been noticeable at first, but he did bring it up to Lindsay one night, to which she just smiled and told him to eat what was given to him. “Yeah,” he whispered, his head bowing in disappointment, “yeah.”

Lindsay wished she could console the warrior, but their branches were too far apart. Instead, she dangled her legs in the air and faced her husband. She leaned forward and looked up so she could look Michael in the eye. “Did Geoff say what he was going to do to take care of it?”

He shook his head. “Seems like he’s sticking with us hunting.”

It shocked Lindsay. Was the problem not as widespread as she had thought? Did the king truly know what was going on in the forest? Especially during the hunt they were on—she knew the animals and beasts were thinning out, there was no doubt about it. “Does he not realize that the animals—” Michael let out a small laugh, and rose his head. 

“Oh he realizes. Ryan made sure of that.”

Lindsay slightly tilted her head in confusion. “Ryan?”

“Yeah.” 

Ah, she thought. She understood, frowning. She was tired of the stories between Ryan and Geoff. It seemed to be a constant within the kingdom, despite the villagers expecting not a thing. “Again?”

“Yep.” It was drawn out.

“Huh.” And these were the grown men ruling the kingdom, she thought. Some leaders. She watched as a void creature sauntered back into the woods before turning back to her warrior knight. “Well, did he consider what Ryan said?” No matter if she had no idea what Ryan had said, it was still vital that the plea was at least regarded. 

Michael laughed at the idea of Geoff actually listening to Ryan. It was rare—very rare—that Ryan’s idea was even considered, and that consideration was moderately used toward the kingdom. “It’s Ryan, Lindsay. What do you think?”

She sighed. “So, no, right?”

“It was denied the moment he opened his mouth,” Michael mumbled quickly. The demons below reached up toward their legs, but could not touch them. Michael brought his attention to them and listened to Lindsay.

“That shouldn’t happen,” she whispered back. At least, she thought it shouldn’t. The king should regard all ideas and thoughts from the kingdom, with the highest grace (and perhaps patience) in the land. They should not only choose the ones they wish to hear, at a whim. But what did she know? She was not the one to sit on the throne; she was only a mere warrior, next to her husband. Perhaps time would tell.

“He can choose to listen whenever and to whomever he chooses,” Michael replied back. He thought it was the truth. Why should the king listen to the inane theories and plans to help the kingdom, if they even did help them at all? If the king thought he could not trust a person’s ability to rule and plan a coherent solution to a problem, then he could choose to disregard them completely, simple as that.

But what did he know?

He was not the one to sit on the throne; he was only a mere warrior to the king. 

Time would tell.

Lindsay knew she would not win the fight against Michael about the problem in the throne room. She knew where his loyalty lied, and to express an opinion opposite of the kingdom would mean to prepare to spill your blood on the kingdom’s floors. But, she did wonder something. She tilted her head down, hoping to catch his eyes. “Well? What about you?”

That caught Michael’s attention. He looked up and met her eyes. “What about me?” What about him? Why was he—he was a mere knight, a lowly warrior. Why ask for his opinion?

She shrugged, but smiled. “What do you think about Ryan’s plan?”

“I—” And it was where Michael had to pause. Within the throne room, he was eager to show his loyalty to Geoff and the kingdom, and prove he was beyond faithful to the king. Hell, even his words and outburst toward his own friend was something he regarded both as show and loyalty to the throne. Outside the castle was the same story. He would be glad to speak ill of someone if it showed how much loyalty he had to another. Instead, the words stopped on his tongue, and were swallowed back into his system. Of course he wished to support the king and whatever decisions he came to make. Regarding the food supply, however, and with the discussion with Lindsay, he had a hard time disagreeing with Ryan, especially when no other idea came from the king or the knights themselves. They were at a standstill, and time was of the essence for the kingdom. Soon enough, the food would run dry, and so would Achievia.

So what could he say to her? What did he actually think? That it was actually a good idea to at least try out before jumping to conclusions? Or risk his entire life betraying the one on the throne? The silence lasted longer than expected. Lindsay filled the void. “Do you think Ryan had a good idea? Or was it something outrageous?” 

Michael thought. And thought, and thought, but no matter how many thoughts came to Geoff’s defense, to honor and support Geoff in the highest demand, there still nagged a thought which jumped to Ryan’s defense.

What if that plan could work?

Hesitation rested on his shoulders. “I—I don’t know.”

It was the first time he hesitated about Geoff. He felt as though he had failed the kingdom. 

Michael watched more creatures circle below, their groans ringing in his ears. He wished he could jump down and—and defend the city. That was what he wanted to do, surely. His hand clenched his sword in hand. His job was to protect, hunt, and supply. He was the warrior—he felt a foot nudge against his leg. “We’ll figure something out.”

It was reassuring. 

“Yeah.”

The groans cut through the darkness, and all became silent.

\- - -

“My liege.” 

Geoff did not move. Someone was behind him in the room, perhaps holding more papers for him to see and sign. He stared down at the documents in front of him, scanning the information that could prove vital to their kingdom (most of it was gibberish and unimportant to him). The deep oak table proved sturdy under his palms. He was familiar with the voice in the room, a voice that stood out amongst the other knights. It was one he could count on and trust no matter the circumstances. Yet, a smile graced his face, and he let out a small huff—a laugh. “How many times do I have to tell you, Jack? You can call me by name when alone like this.” 

Footsteps circled around, and it was Jack who stood across from Geoff, armor still worn. Geoff looked up to see a small smile underneath the beard. He had no idea why villagers tended to fear the man. From the looks of it, he seemed rugged and able to land a punch to give an impressive amount of pain to another. But, once known, he was nothing more than the complete opposite. It had been years since their first meeting together, but he would be one Geoff could not see life without. Truly, when the decision had to be made on who would be his right-hand, no hesitation existed, and thus a stronger bond was formed. 

Still, it annoyed Geoff that Jack would address him so formally without a hint of hesitation. 

“Force of habit,” Jack replied as he sat down in a chair across from the king. Geoff shrugged it off. He knew it was out of respect regardless, so he could not blame or fault the man. Geoff noticed a new pile of papers his right-hand had brought, and he hung his head. He wondered when it would all end—how much business could there possibly be when all the kingdoms tended to shy away from his own? He still could not make sense of their hesitation toward allying with Achievia. He possessed no threat and no means of war to any neighboring kingdoms. He had not wished war nor poverty on any king or queen that possibly ruled nearby. Whatever their reasoning, their decision was accepted. 

(Geoff had not known, but kingdoms surrounding Achievia feared his. A kingdom that happened to build over the course of mere days, and for a kingdom to quickly thrive was certainly uncalled for. What’s more, Achievia took villagers from other kingdoms without sending any word whatsoever on their own. Instead, the kingdom grew from word of mouth, and continued to thrive through that channel of communication. Any noble king or queen with a brain knew never to align their politics with theirs, no matter how enticing it sounded. Sure, Achievia had the resources and the land to build a strong foundation of a kingdom, but its means of ruling was another story. To put it shortly, it was thus: Geoff was never meant to hold a throne, and certainly not with such a laidback demeanor. And so, they kept their distance.)

Geoff was looking through another document, another statistical conundrum based on the resources within the kingdom. The papers were all scattered about, with numbers and estimations needed for the upcoming weeks for the kingdom to have. He sometimes worried if the kingdom would ever run out of such necessities or resources, but the man who compiled the information relieved him and spoke of keeping pace with stocking and collecting such things. He would have to give thanks to the viscount. It was not until moments later when he heard Jack clear his throat. He had something to say. Geoff figured it was about the new papers in Jack’s hands, and he did not let his eyes leave the papers in his own hands. Instead, he read those, and said: “What is it, Jack?” 

There was a slight pause before Jack’s voice was heard: “It’s—” And there was another pause. Only that time it was not short. It was too long of a pause for Geoff to be comfortable in, and when he looked up to his right-hand man, he could feel the tension grow in the air. There was a heavy burden, it was obvious. The man was holding out the papers to him, uncaring to the documents already in his king’s hands. “The people grow with worry over the food supply.”

Geoff could not help if the papers under his palms were wrinkled. A surge of annoyance and anger rushed through him, before it calmed again. Did the people of Achievia not trust their king’s judgment? And how much distrust was there? It was Geoff who let out a long groan. “Do they not understand I have our two finest warriors out in the forest? Who are very much coming back with food as we speak?” He himself had hardly grasped the idea of a week passing since their last meeting, but the sun had risen another day, and it would soon set. The warriors would return with the food Achievia needed.

“They do,” Jack quickly stated. “But they worry of whether there is enough left in the land to hunt.” It was a growing concern, no doubt. Geoff straightened his posture, arms crossed. He stared at Jack across from him. 

“They should not worry over something so trivial,” he replied. Geoff had no problem with the supply in the castle, and knew there was no problem outside of it. The people were being fed—they should be thankful for the food the warriors would bring back so they could survive. That, of course, was what the king wished to say to his people. Instead, he looked to his right-hand man and asked: “Would it be wise to speak to the kingdom?”

Jack, much to Geoff’s dismay, nodded. “It would be wise.”

Geoff uncrossed his arms and tilted his head back, groaning once more. Why could the people just not trust his instinct when it came to such problems? Would they even be reassured by his words? “Damn it,” he sighed, already dreading his speech to the masses. He rubbed his face with his hand, dragging it down his face. 

Exhaustion was catching up to the king. The only idea to possibly solve the problem was one that had been voiced before. One he despised, because of how costly it would be with time. He looked up to his right-hand man. “What were your thoughts on Ryan’s plan, Jack?”

“Do you want the truth?” Geoff nodded. The truth was always welcomed. He was not one that liked to tiptoe around issues. Get to the point—that was what he liked.  
“I think it could work.”

Geoff closed his eyes. It was the only idea they had. 

He felt as though he had failed his own kingdom. A knight, he thought, coming up with an idea to save the village. 

It was enraging.

Before Geoff could respond with anything back to Jack, they both heard a shriek from the village. Their attention was drawn to the window. Then, suddenly, there was an immense surge of chatter from the people. Geoff began to walk toward the balcony. When he looked down, he saw two figures emerge from the forest, and a woman’s voice cry out: 

“The warriors have returned!”

Geoff, who felt Jack next to him, looked up to his friend. No, he thought. The knight would not get the pleasure. He was king. He was right. “See?” Jack looked down at Geoff. “Nothing to worry about,” Geoff stated. He began to walk back into the castle, his cape dragging behind him, and prepared to descend through his home into the streets that held his people. Jack looked back to the crowd and watched the warriors stop before the crowd. He dared not say a thing to Geoff from what he saw. He only followed quickly with the king into the streets. 

Lindsay and Michael were covered with blood and dirt. They had scratches on their bodies from the fights they endured, including a surge of creatures that had swarmed them on their way back. It would be an understatement to suggest they had looked tired. The way they hung their heads and looked as though they were using the last bit of their strength to stand was enough to suggest how tired they were. The villagers noticed the other knights emerge from their duties and swarm their friends who had returned. Ray and Gavin stood before them, asking how the hunt had gone. The villagers did not hear their answers. The other, the mysterious one, Ryan, walked toward them and let them set the food down on the ground. The villagers noticed how—how much food they had come back with. Some exchanged glances within the gathering; others kept their eyes to the knights. Michael looked up at Ryan and tried to explain what happened, but Ryan only shook his head and welcomed him back. The villagers stood in silence.

Geoff walked down the path toward his knights and warriors, through the group that gathered. Someone in the crowd had yelled: “King Geoff has graced us!” It opened a path toward them, with Jack and other soldiers in toe. The knights turned to their king and straightened their stance out—the royal posture that was expected of them when Geoff was near. He did not see Lindsay or Michael, but he knew they stood behind the knights. He put his hand up and smiled. 

“Men, at ease,” he said. The knights quickly relaxed. Geoff looked down the line at them, some more visibly exhausted than the others. They said nothing to their king as Geoff stood there, but rather they moved to the side, understanding their king was there for the warriors who had returned. And while Geoff had become worried at the sight of the two, he stepped forward and greeted them both. “Welcome, Sir Michael and Lady Lindsay.”

They bowed their heads. “My liege,” they both replied, loud enough for Geoff to hear, but not the rest. Michael was the only one to look up at Geoff; Lindsay kept her head bowed. It was not just out of respect, but rather out of exhaustion as well. Geoff noted the bags under his warrior’s eyes; the forest was Hell enough. 

Geoff stepped closer to Michael. He did not want the villagers to hear their conversation. “How much has been gained?” Both Lindsay and Michael knew he spoke of the food supply they had brought back. They looked at each other, then shuffled away only a few steps so the king could see their load. When Geoff looked down, whatever smile had been on his face was gone. There, on the ground, rested two carriers full to the brim—and only two. A carrier did not hold much; perhaps thirty pounds of food was before his feet at that moment. 

He heard Michael next to him start to talk. Geoff turned his head toward him. “A weak load, my liege. It will not give villagers more than two meals per day.”

Geoff sighed. There was no way he could present only possibly thirty pounds of food to his people; they would need at least another carrier to potentially satisfy most of the kingdom. He knew his warriors had done well, and they would be received well, but he looked to Michael and frowned. It had to be done. He placed his hand on Michael’s shoulder to try to comfort the warrior for the news. 

“Prepare to travel back tomorrow.”

Geoff noticed the immediate shock on Michael’s face, followed by Lindsay’s surprise. They had just returned to the forest, and they knew how dangerous it was to return hours later, not well-rested and healthy. “I—” But Michael stopped. What could he say to his king? Deny that he return to the forest to help the village? He did not want to return, but it was an order, and an order had to be accepted and completed. Michael looked to Lindsay, who slightly shook her head. He hoped his look gave enough apology to her as he turned back and bowed his head. It was out of respect and honor. “Yes, my liege,” he whispered back. 

He felt Geoff’s hand move from his shoulder and rest on his head. He knew not when he would return with more food—perhaps it would only take three days’ time for the king to be satisfied—but Michael would at least try to make the king proud. The hand left his scalp, and Michael looked up to see Geoff had turned away. Anger surged through him. He felt someone move next to him, and the anger dissipated. He turned to Lindsay. 

Geoff briefly stared at his knights. They had heard his decree and order, and were just as shocked as Michael and Lindsay about it. “Dismissed,” he spoke, and began to walk back toward the castle. Jack was a step behind him.

Ray and Gavin rushed to their friends’ sides, while Michael cursed under his breath. “Damn it,” he muttered. He hunched over and rubbed his face with his hands. Lindsay wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

“You guys can’t go back in there like this,” Gavin said. And he was right. 

“Let us go in for you. We can take care of the food problem,” Ray said. Michael wished, and wished and wished.

But Michael looked up and replied back: “Order’s an order, Ray. I have no choice but to go back.”

Lindsay sighed. “We’ll think of something.”

Michael looked at her. He couldn’t let her go back. “You are to stay in the village until I return, Lindsay.”

“What?” She cried out. “You can’t go in there alone! You are not well, Michael. What if something were to happen while you were alone? Who would protect you?”

“The hell with being well,” he shot back, “You stay in the village and heal yourself. I will not be gone long.” She wanted to say he was wrong, and he was, but she was tired. Lindsay sighed and let her head rest against him. He wrapped an arm around her. He would be okay.

Nothing more was said between the friends, but only their respect and loyalty to one another kept them standing.

Geoff did not hear their conversation. He was already walking toward the castle. As he made the trip, thoughts raced through his mind. How long would it take for his warrior to come and save their food supply? Could there be a possibility that Michael would not be as successful as he had in previous hunts? Geoff heard the voices of the villagers express concern (“What are we to do?” “There cannot be that much there.”), but continued to walk. He had a kingdom to rule and a job to have done, and he would not rest until all was satisfied. It was only a mere voice that called out to him that made him stop for a brief moment. 

“Was the hunt a success?”

He knew the voice. It was close. He turned his head to the villagers and looked around them, trying to find the person. Geoff clenched his fists and frowned. He knew the man could hide well, but it would not be long before the man could be found. Geoff would make sure of it.  
Jack rested a hand on Geoff’s shoulder. He did not budge. “My liege?” 

Geoff immediately turned his head toward Jack. “Bring forth the information.” He began to walk again toward his throne room, where he needed his solitude from the rest of the world. Jack turned back to the knights in the streets, watching them help their friends to their home to catch some rest before heading back out. 

“As you wish,” he whispered. Jack caught up to them and helped them home.

\- - -

“Geoff wishes to speak to you.”

“When?”

“It is urgent.”

“Okay.”

\- - -

The sky burned, with darkness swirling with the flames.

A knight stood behind the king. He kept enough distance to not be seen by the people below who perhaps glanced up in hopes to see their king. His voice was a mere mumble, deep enough to not echo against the stone walls.

“What would you like done if he becomes a problem, my liege?”

The king turned from his people, the sun casting a shadow long into the throne room. The knight noticed a slight hesitation, but a formal request coming. The tense look from the king was enough to silence the entire kingdom. The king, the knight knew, made his decision long ago.

“Take care of him.”

His voice did not tremble; it was law.

The man bowed.

The king turned back to the setting sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Godb'w'ye" - Very old way of merely saying "goodbye." Etymologically, you read it as "god be with ye."
> 
> I'm trash for not uploading or updating sooner. That's the excuse of the day. Also this chapter is trash, so we're all trash. Not much to say about the chapter. Lots of foreshadowing and mystery. If you have questions or comments, send an ask to themadkingreigns on tumblr. I'm always open to talking about my AU.
> 
> Until we meet again.


End file.
